There was a multitude of these pictures on the walls,
and Evelyn wondered who was her next-door neighbour. Was it Owen? Or
was he down at the end of the passage? In a house like Thornton
Grange the name of every one was put on his or her door, so that
visitors should not wander into the wrong room by accident, creating
dismay and provoking scandal. Owen, where was he? A prayer was
offered up that he might be at the other end of the house. It would
not be right if Lady Ascott had placed him in the adjoining room, it
really would not be right, and she regretted her visit. What evil
thing had tempted her into this house, where everything was an
appeal to the senses, everything she had seen since she had entered
the house--food, wine, gowns? There was, however, a bolt to her
door, and she drew it, forgetful that sin visits us in solitude, and
more insidiously than when we are in the midst of crowds; and as she
dozed in the scented room, amid the fine linen, silk, and laces, the
sins which for generations had been committed in this house seemed to
gather substance, and even shape; a strange phantasmata trooped past
her, some seeming to bewail their sins, while others indulged
themselves with each other, or turned to her, inciting her to sin
with them, until one of them whispered in her ear that Owen was
coming to her room, and then she knew that at his knock her strength
would fail her, and she would let him in.
Pages:
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38